Dr. Donald Blake & Thor Odinson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ifwebeworthy) wrote2024-10-28 07:30 pm
ifwebeworthy) wrote2024-10-28 07:30 pm
The Void, Monday Night
"Do you still know how to get in touch with Jan?"
Thor had been drifting, not really paying attention to anything. Meditating, almost. He was still not quite startled to find himself suddenly no longer alone, and he turned to Blake and asked, "Janet?" as Blake lowered himself to the ground beside him. "What need have you to speak to her?"
"I assume the last number either of us has for Natasha is the deadest of ends and the actual phone was thrown into the Hudson months ago, so I was hoping she might have a lead."
"Ah," Thor realized. "Miss Belova."
"Yelena," Blake agreed. "On the one hand, she seems in earnest."
"On the other hand, we have met Natasha." Which meant that a lot of red flags and question marks had been raised by the possibility Yelena had anything like her background. "I suppose it is a point in her favor that she has not been paying close enough attention to have noticed we are not ever anywhere together."
"She could think anything," Blake countered. "She could have been testing you somehow when she asked...y'know." Thor thought his elision odd, but could not argue his overall point.
"You do remember Natasha." That won him a smile that crinkled Blake's eyes at the corners, but Thor had to tell him, "Even if I could contact Janet, and she could contact Natasha...it would not help us. She might not know a Yelena Belova. Or the one she knew could be a completely different person."
"Most of the people here seem about the same," Blake argued.
"Have you managed to get Jane to tell you anything of your counterpart yet?" Thor asked.
"Point taken."
"And she is a physicist. And...Thor." Still strange.
"Point taken," Blake repeated more firmly.
"Also I think it unlikely that Natasha let her keep her phone number, if they are in contact, after I contacted her a few months ago." Which had been to text her, Friend Janet, have you ever considered that our current difficulties could have been avoided if Steve and Tony would have just fucking made out already? so Janet van Dyne was probably very confused at best. "We must trust or not trust Miss Belova on her own merits, I think."
Blake flung himself back against the barren rock of the ground hard enough that he should have hurt his head, if this had been a real place. If they had had real bodies. "Well, that sucks. I want a cheat sheet."
Thor told him, solemn, but with the corner of his mouth turning up, "Denied." Then he said, after debating whether or not to raise the matter for a moment, "Her conclusion did not surprise you."
Blake shrugged one shoulder. "There's only one bed, Thor." He sounded casual. He looked casual. But Thor had once worn his face in the mirror, and there was something else there. Something he was, perhaps, not quite certain of himself.
He didn't know what to make of it, so he let it lie and changed the subject. "Have you given any thought to your birthday?"
Blake frowned up at him, confused. "My birthday?"
"It is coming up next month," Thor reminded him.
"Oh. I suppose it is. It's not really my birthday, you know." Thor did know that, of course. It was merely what Odin had put on Blake's paperwork, presumably chosen at random.
"No," he agreed, "but I do not suppose we will ever figure out--"
"January seventh." Thor stared at him, and Blake stared up at the sky of the void. "The first day of my--of our second semester of med school. Really our first semester. I had a long time to think about it. That was the first day I could remember anything from that felt real, and not like--like information had been downloaded into my brain. I stole a Pop-Tart from one of our roommates for breakfast, and it tasted...strange. New. Because it was. Everything was strange and new." Thor remembered it now, the oversweet filling, the almost gummy texture of the pastry, because of course he hadn't taken the time to toast it. He wasn't sure he had known you were supposed to. He had been in a hurry; he hadn't thought much on it at the time, but...he remembered now. "I can't eat strawberry Pop-Tarts now." Blake shifted his gaze to meet Thor's, and told him, more conversational, "I looked it up when I was alive again. The first day of med school that semester was January seventh." Thor didn't know what to say to that, and Blake returned his attention to the ever-shifting sky. "I don't know. It's too confusing. How old am I, anyway?"
"I suppose you get to decide that," Thor told him. "Just as you get to decide how much to trust Miss Belova."
"Thanks, Thor," Blake said. "You're a lot of help." Then he was gone, faded back to reality, though a few moments later he struck his walking stick against the floor and swapped their places, leaving Thor sitting at the desk in their room instead of him. Much like that odd look that had crossed his face at the mention of Miss Belova's assumptions, Thor did not know what to make of it, but again, he chose not to ask. Blake would explain himself if he wanted to.
(NFI/NFB due to metaphysical distance.)
Thor had been drifting, not really paying attention to anything. Meditating, almost. He was still not quite startled to find himself suddenly no longer alone, and he turned to Blake and asked, "Janet?" as Blake lowered himself to the ground beside him. "What need have you to speak to her?"
"I assume the last number either of us has for Natasha is the deadest of ends and the actual phone was thrown into the Hudson months ago, so I was hoping she might have a lead."
"Ah," Thor realized. "Miss Belova."
"Yelena," Blake agreed. "On the one hand, she seems in earnest."
"On the other hand, we have met Natasha." Which meant that a lot of red flags and question marks had been raised by the possibility Yelena had anything like her background. "I suppose it is a point in her favor that she has not been paying close enough attention to have noticed we are not ever anywhere together."
"She could think anything," Blake countered. "She could have been testing you somehow when she asked...y'know." Thor thought his elision odd, but could not argue his overall point.
"You do remember Natasha." That won him a smile that crinkled Blake's eyes at the corners, but Thor had to tell him, "Even if I could contact Janet, and she could contact Natasha...it would not help us. She might not know a Yelena Belova. Or the one she knew could be a completely different person."
"Most of the people here seem about the same," Blake argued.
"Have you managed to get Jane to tell you anything of your counterpart yet?" Thor asked.
"Point taken."
"And she is a physicist. And...Thor." Still strange.
"Point taken," Blake repeated more firmly.
"Also I think it unlikely that Natasha let her keep her phone number, if they are in contact, after I contacted her a few months ago." Which had been to text her, Friend Janet, have you ever considered that our current difficulties could have been avoided if Steve and Tony would have just fucking made out already? so Janet van Dyne was probably very confused at best. "We must trust or not trust Miss Belova on her own merits, I think."
Blake flung himself back against the barren rock of the ground hard enough that he should have hurt his head, if this had been a real place. If they had had real bodies. "Well, that sucks. I want a cheat sheet."
Thor told him, solemn, but with the corner of his mouth turning up, "Denied." Then he said, after debating whether or not to raise the matter for a moment, "Her conclusion did not surprise you."
Blake shrugged one shoulder. "There's only one bed, Thor." He sounded casual. He looked casual. But Thor had once worn his face in the mirror, and there was something else there. Something he was, perhaps, not quite certain of himself.
He didn't know what to make of it, so he let it lie and changed the subject. "Have you given any thought to your birthday?"
Blake frowned up at him, confused. "My birthday?"
"It is coming up next month," Thor reminded him.
"Oh. I suppose it is. It's not really my birthday, you know." Thor did know that, of course. It was merely what Odin had put on Blake's paperwork, presumably chosen at random.
"No," he agreed, "but I do not suppose we will ever figure out--"
"January seventh." Thor stared at him, and Blake stared up at the sky of the void. "The first day of my--of our second semester of med school. Really our first semester. I had a long time to think about it. That was the first day I could remember anything from that felt real, and not like--like information had been downloaded into my brain. I stole a Pop-Tart from one of our roommates for breakfast, and it tasted...strange. New. Because it was. Everything was strange and new." Thor remembered it now, the oversweet filling, the almost gummy texture of the pastry, because of course he hadn't taken the time to toast it. He wasn't sure he had known you were supposed to. He had been in a hurry; he hadn't thought much on it at the time, but...he remembered now. "I can't eat strawberry Pop-Tarts now." Blake shifted his gaze to meet Thor's, and told him, more conversational, "I looked it up when I was alive again. The first day of med school that semester was January seventh." Thor didn't know what to say to that, and Blake returned his attention to the ever-shifting sky. "I don't know. It's too confusing. How old am I, anyway?"
"I suppose you get to decide that," Thor told him. "Just as you get to decide how much to trust Miss Belova."
"Thanks, Thor," Blake said. "You're a lot of help." Then he was gone, faded back to reality, though a few moments later he struck his walking stick against the floor and swapped their places, leaving Thor sitting at the desk in their room instead of him. Much like that odd look that had crossed his face at the mention of Miss Belova's assumptions, Thor did not know what to make of it, but again, he chose not to ask. Blake would explain himself if he wanted to.
(NFI/NFB due to metaphysical distance.)